


Ostinato

by StormBinder



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Battle of Red Mountain, Dragon Breaks and their implications, ESO Focused, Established Relationship, Exploring Lore, F/M, Red Moment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27921829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormBinder/pseuds/StormBinder
Summary: Ostinato (n): a short melodic, rhythmic, or chordal phrase repeated continuously throughout a piece or section while other musical elements are generally changingAn exploration of lore through the eyes of Kagrenac's proof of concept: his daughter.
Relationships: Sotha Sil & Original Dwemer Character(s), Sotha Sil/Original Character(s), Sotha Sil/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 15





	1. Threnody

_Threnody (n): a lament. A song of lamentation for the dead._

Pale bare feet slapped hard stone in a stiff staccato—time was running out.

Duakagre cut a blind corner and ran headlong into an Architon, losing her balance and falling to the floor with a thud. Its cold emotionless face regarded her with a slight cock of its head before it Called to her in Dwemeris.

“Lady Duakagre. Lord Kagrenac has requested you return to your chambers at once.” 

Dua tasted bile, her extremities numbed and her stomach dropped. This was a point of no return—her decision in the next second would determine the fate of not only those she loved but potentially all of Mundus.

_As if there were another viable option._

Jutting her chin up defiantly, she raised a shaky right hand and clenched her fist. The architon before her crumpled in on itself, but not before it transmitted a simpler version of the Calling to any automaton that happened to be nearby. Raising her left palm, she emitted a pulse and grabbed control of a sphere and two spiders that had been alerted by the Architon. She could wrangle several smaller constructs at once, but the Architons and Centurions would be able to resist her pull.

Scrambling to her feet, Dua continued her trek to the Materials Bay entrance where surely Nerevar and Voryn awaited her. Her robes swished and caught around her calves in the dimly lit hallways and she could hear the dull thuds and shouts of battle beginning. She wasn’t dressed for battle and instead was in her sleeveless formal robes, more decorative than anything.

One last turn and Dua stood before a stone wall, a slight-glimmer giving away its dual purpose. Swallowing hard, Dua walked forward and placed her right palm flat to the wall. The Tower constellation shone brightly before the wall dissolved into the ether, revealing the tense faces of Nerevar, Voryn, Sotha Sil, Vivec, and Almalexia, illuminated by a single hovering magelight above Sil’s palm. Her forest green eyes met Sil’s golden irises briefly before returning to the golden-skinned soldier before her. She forewent a greeting.

“The automatons are on alert, and I can only hold so many at a time,” Dua spoke quietly despite the rising din of battle preparations beginning to echo through the stone. Nerevar raised his eyes to look past her diminutive form and to the dimly lit grey and gilded corridor behind her, the lights casting it in a green hue.

“Thank you, Lady Duakagre. You’re…you’re saving millions of lives. I know that might not be the most consolation but—”

“There’s no time for this, Nerevar. The time for platitudes can come later, after this is…resolved,” Voryn said with a curt nod to the Dwemer womer before him. Dua nodded but held up a hand before they proceeded. All five Chimer before her felt a rush of warmth across their skin, as the brass torque around her neck began to glow red hot. She winced. 

“That’s all I can spare, but it should keep the automatons off you to a degree. Just keep moving, and I’ll pick off any that can see through the barrier’s aura.” Dua offered a weak smile that didn’t meet her eyes and pulled a hastily drawn but meticulously accurate map from her belt pocket and shoved it into Nerevar’s hands. Nodding to him, she stepped to the side of the corridor to allow them to pass, back pressing to the cool stone behind her. They each bowed their heads in respect and thanks to her as they passed, knowing they were not guaranteed to see the other side of this conflict to thank her otherwise. Sil came by last and stopped before her.

“Barefoot, even as you face battle,” he remarked with the barest twitch at the corner of his mouth—the closest thing to a smirk he seemed able to manifest.

“Sil, there’s not time for this. My father has brought Dumac to the Heart Chamber already and he will do anything to—” Dua was cut off by a pair of lips on her own. So startled was she by the gesture that she nearly threw Sil back against the wall out of reflex.

“I understand. Dua, I just want you to know—” It was Dua’s turn to cut Sil off with a press of her lips. Breaking apart, Sil rested his forehead against hers, hands cupping her brass-cuffed biceps lightly.

“Don’t say it. I know. Just go,” Dua said in a shuddering whisper as their breath mingled between them. She was startlingly close to tears and that wouldn’t do anyone any good. As Sil pulled back, Dua stood to her tiptoes and pressed her fingertips to his temples, sending a pulse of divinity and magicka through him. His own magicka responded in kind and tangled with hers briefly. “I can’t feel you through a Calling, but this will have to do. When…if one of us are to—are to fall, the other will know. Can you feel me?”

Sil nodded and pressed his cheek into Dua’s left hand. She could feel his swell of affection through the hasty makeshift link.

“Goodbye, Duakagre.”

“Goodbye, Sil. My light, always.”

Sil bowed his head to her as the others had, and was gone in a flash of Displacement down the hall.

With the five of them inside and her betrayal of her people, of her father, solidified, Duakagre allowed herself a moment of grief. 

She tore the aetherium circlet from her head and threw it down the hall with a shout as it disappeared into the darkness from which the Chimer had come. She ran the fingers of both hands roughly through her too-long wavy ginger locks, nails scraping her scalp harshly. Sil had commented that it was so odd to see a Dwemer without black hair in tight ringlets as was so prevalent among the race, teasing her that maybe there was some Chimer blood in her veins; he didn’t know the half of it. While Kagrenac was most certainly her father, and her faintly shimmering silver skin blatantly betrayed her Dwemer heritage, her mother was not Dwemer, but rather a brilliant Chimer sorceress by the name of Ehnasi. She had been forcibly removed from the Chimeri stronghold along the northernmost shores of Resdayn…from House Dagoth.

Kagrenac was a fastidious scholar, a brilliant tonal-architect, but a careless scribe. Careless enough that his daughter was more than aware of her origins.

Dua had been a curious child, as was to be expected of one born of a powerful magister and a tonal architect. Her abject refusal to accept Kagrenac’s platitudes in respect to her birth mother was likely what led to this very moment; her prying had led her to Voryn Dagoth, who had wheedled information from her about the Numidium, and from there the seeds of rebellion were sown amongst both parties.

Looking down to her hands, she marveled at how the actions of one mer, barely the age of majority by Dwemer standards, had succinctly commenced an all-out war. 

Her hands raised to touch the Tonal Torque around her throat and her fingers shone golden as she eased the blistered burns the superheated brass had left in its wake when she offered the group a barrier aura. Tightly clasped and unremovable by anyone but Kagrenac, it disguised and suppressed the divinity he had been siphoning from the Heart and into her body since her birth more than 50 years prior. He’d clasped it around her throat the first day she had met the Chimeri rulers, to disguise his illicit experiment and avoid arousing suspicion. Divinity had a way of seeping through one’s pores, leaving an oppressive physical and visible aura and often altering the Tones of one’s voice. While she was proficient enough at hiding most visible and audible clues to her secret, the aura would most certainly be able to be felt by an accomplished sorcerer, and Nerevar was quite fond of keeping both Sil and Vivec with him. She doubted Almalexia, Nerevar, or Voryn would pick up on it, but Vivec might and Sil certainly would.

The torque was designed to aesthetically match her robes. While the body of her robe was of a soft emerald silk, an ornate brass breastplate had been clasped over it, glimmering with a piece of aetherium in the center for the wearer to draw from when their magicka reserves were depleted; this breastplate allowed the torque a kind of camouflage. The first time Sil had seen her without her robes, standing before him in a dark room wearing nothing but a heated look in her eyes, she’d seen his eyes flicker to the ever-present torque, but he made no comment, that night or any of the following. 

While she’d never revealed her divine nature to the Chimer, and only Voryn knew she’d been born of a member of his House, she had a sinking feeling that Sil was beginning to puzzle out both. If he didn’t before, the barrier she’d gifted them would give it away to both the sorcerer and likely Vivec.

She felt the shift in Tones around her, both through the air and the stone beneath her perpetually bare feet, and her moment of self-pity was over. Dua straightened herself, unslinging her staff from her back. A shining example of Dwemeri brass craftsmanship, she had created this staff with its crescent moon top as an homage to the stolen divinity that coursed through her being1. She pushed some of said divinity through the staff, ignoring the burn around her throat as the torque worked to suppress her power, and turned on her heel to chase after Nerevar and his companions.

The quickest she could make it to the Heart Chamber was through Displacement, but due to the various Tonal wards permeating Vvardenfell, her displacement was limited to short bursts at a time. Concentrating, she tried to shift the Tonal Ward responsible for limiting portals and travel enough to allow her to portal directly to the heart. If she could do that, she would beat the Chimer to the chamber and have better odds of interceding. She gasped as the Torque singed her throat, smelling burned flesh, but the air around her hummed and vibrated at a higher frequency. She brought her fingertips to her throat once more but could only reduce the singed skin to blisters, not a full heal. _Shit_. Her Magicka was running low, still not fully recovered from the barrier aura or the bastardized version of The Calling she’d gifted Sil. 

Closing her eyes and slowing her breathing, she focused on her connection to the heart and pulled.

The second Dua’s bare feet touched stone, she was met with a piercing agony in the front left side of her chest just where her breastplate ended, and a hand closing on the torque at her throat. She blinked rapidly trying to force her eyes to focus, and was met with the furious black irises of her father mere inches in front of her own. Shifting her blurred gaze to the source of the pain, she saw the intricate brass handle of Keening protruding from her chest, her father’s hand still gripping it tightly. With a cool, emotionless stare, Kagrenac yanked the torque from her throat, effectively removing the lock on her power. Her staff clattered to the ground.

Duakagre’s head swam as she felt the dagger begin to tear at her as Kagrenac twisted it. Keening cut at the divinity that was so inextricably intertwined with her being, and she collapsed to her knees in agony, Kagrenac following the motion. Her shaking right hand grasped at his wrist, trembling fingers futilely trying to pull his hand away.

“You insipid, naïve little _traitor_ ,” her father hissed in Dwemeris as Dua frantically tried to heal the wound. “You cannot begin to fathom the repercussions for what you have done!” The sharp lines of his usually expressionless, cool face were thrown with shadows that made him look every bit the monster she believed him. His hair had fallen from his usual low horsetail and the tar-pitch curls fell around his face wildly—his teeth were grit tightly together and his face was twisted into a sneer, so unlike his normal visage. He wore the look of desperation like a mantle and Dua realized at that moment she was going to die in this chamber.

She merely gasped for breath in response, her head throbbing and heart racing from the pull of Keening, as it attempted to unmake her. A heartbeat later a bang resonated through the stone chamber as Captain Nerevar’s group forced their way in. The commotion broke Kagrenac’s concentration and the pull on her divinity lessened. He stood and whirled on the intruders, leaving Dua to pitch forward onto the stone beneath her, fingers scrambling to pull the blade from her chest. 

With a wave of his hand, Keening slid free and returned to Kagrenac as he drew himself up to his full height in face of the small but determined Chimeri force. The five of them had braced themselves, weapons drawn, save Voryn and Sil, who preferred the arcane. Sil’s eyes met Dua’s and she fell forward with a thud, her power rushing to heal what certainly should have been a fatal wound. She heard booted feet make a move towards her and she was suddenly hoisted into the air like a ragdoll, pressure around her already injured throat burning as though a hand, her father’s hand, held her in its grip. Her head lolled back as far as it could and her eyes fluttered closed as her connection to the Heart strengthened and the air around her hummed with an unfamiliar Tone. Her breath caught and a sudden shift in the Song made her skin erupt in gooseflesh as the world began to tilt.

Kagrenac lacked the literal gods-given tie to the Song and its Tones that Dua had, but he too sensed the shift enough to drop her back into the heap from whence he’d plucked her. Turning to Dumac, who thus far had been observing, Kagrenac Called and the chamber erupted into swift chaos. 

With both highly trained Dwemeri soldiers and a smattering of automatons, the battle had leaned in Dumac’s favor from its inception, though Dumac’s focus clearly concentrated on Nerevar. The Dwemeri swords gifted from the Dumac to Almalexia and Nerevar were turned on him, singing through the air with a melody that could only be achieved by a weapon crafted by a race that knew Music.

Then something changed. The air around them thickened and the ground hummed as Dua tried to reign in and direct the sheer power pulsing through her in any way that could be helpful. _Please, Padomay; have mercy._

Though her head swam and she swore could practically taste the Kalpa pulling itself apart around them, Dua forced herself into a supported-kneeling position and reached within herself to empower the Chimer in any way she could. Grabbing hold of the link she’d created with Sil, she began to dump her magicka reserves into him. The fathomless depths of her soul’s Power began to leech forth and though she tried to reign it in, the air around her had begun to resonate with a clear ring and iridescent sheen.

In a bright flash, Dua lost control and whited out. When sensation returned, through the ring in her ears, she heard the muffled voice of her father yelling at the Chimer and felt a pull within her bones from the Heart. _No, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t dare._

She pried her eyes open in time to see Kagrenac don Wraithguard.

Dua’s vision swam and remained dim as she tried to drag her still-bleeding body towards the Chimer, who were crouched on the ground around a grievously injured Nerevar. It was taking pulling on divinity to move and as a result the room around her began to shift; though she still saw with her eyes, she could hear and feel the frightened Chimer before her, and could feel her father’s desperation to the point she nearly choked on it. But there was something else, something chaotic, out of place, at odds with the Tones around her. Focusing in as she continued to crawl, she looked up and forced her eyes to focus as she honed in on the source of the darker disquiet: _Voryn_. His eyes held a familiar gleam; the Heart called to him as it did so many men and mer. She stopped short and her heart sank as she shakily pulled herself to her feet, right hand clutching at the wound Keening had left that wouldn’t heal. She felt a tug in the back of her skull and turned to face Sil for the first time in the chaos.

His eyes met hers and though no coherent thoughts could be mapped, his fear was palpable. It shook her to her core; he was usually a stalwart anchor to which she fixed herself, a lodestone in the chaotic sea of Music around her. His nose was bleeding from apparent strain ( _or perhaps an overdose of the divinity she'd not meant to push onto him?_ ) and she could feel his empty magicka reserves through their makeshift bond. Her eyes shifted to his companions.

Blood flowed from Nerevar’s midsection freely, the clean slice likely dealt by Dumac’s Aetherium-forged blade. Dumac himself was a heap of bloody flesh, brass, and fabric positioned mid-way between the Chimer and the Heart, surrounded by indistinguishable scraps of automatons and the broken bodies of Dwemeri soldiers.

Almalexia cradled Nerevar’s head in her lap, her hands faintly glowing gold with the effort of a healing spell. Her eyes remained fixed on Kagrenac, however, and beyond him even to the Heart itself.

Vivec had dropped to a crouch beside Sil and Almalexia, great sword nowhere to be seen and breastplate pierced by an aetherium-tipped Arquebus bolt just above his sternum. Dua couldn’t tell if the breastplate had done as intended and protected the warrior-poet from the shot, or whether it had pierced and Vivec had healed through it. His focus was fully on Nerevar, a shaky and clearly inexperienced healing hands spell pouring from his fingers.

Icy fear slid down her spine in warning and Dua looked back to her father. Kagrenac lifted Sunder in his left hand and the still blood-stained Keening in his right and made a desperate scramble for the Heart, only a few meters away.

Dua couldn’t find her voice and instead screamed and threw up an overcharged barrier, calling on every shred of Power in her body and shielding herself and the Chimer from the sheer outpouring of creatia at Kagrenac’s hasty and desperate swing of Sunder. The resulting Tone brought Dua to her knees, even as she fought to maintain the barrier with both hands raised. Another flash of light blinded both Dua and those behind her barrier.

Distantly, Dua could feel her father opening the channels of The Calling and she desperately tried to disconnect herself by focusing instead on the bond with Sil.

When the light faded, Kagrenac was gone and his tools had clattered to the stone floor. Dua allowed her barrier to drop and collapsed forward onto her palms, heaving up bile as nausea flooded her. Through the Calling, Dua distantly realized she could no longer feel a single other Mer. Her eyes blinked wildly as she reeled with the repercussions. Her race was gone.

_Was this her fault?_

Sil and Vivec approached Dua cautiously and Dua held up a hand to stop them. The Tones resulting from Kagrenac’s blasphemy still rippled along her skin and she could feel creatia pulling at her soul.

Looking to the backs of her palms, blackened trails bearing the same signature scorching spikes2 of an electrical burn began to creep up her bare arms. Her breath picked up as the tracing patterns began to accelerate towards the center of her chest. She looked up into Sil’s eyes and with a gesture threw both he and Vivec away from her.

With an ear-shattering scream, Dua succumbed to the Tones around her, and she, too, vanished into a flash; only her staff remained behind.

The Chimer sat in stunned silence. Vivec looked to Sil and in turn, Sil reached for the bond Dua had forged with him. 

He felt nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: The moon is often associated with Lorkhan.  
> 2: Lichtenberg Figures
> 
> AN:
> 
> Welcome! I promise this isn't some half baked chosen one story, although isn't that essentially what video games are? Regardless, more to come on Duakagre's "creation", why and how she exists, and the repercussions of such, later.
> 
> I had an idea for this after reading about the Battle of Red Mountain on the UESP, and seeing that there is mention in-lore of an inside traitor of the Dwemer being who allowed Nerevar and his companions into the mountain in the first place. Yes, I know the Tribunal is widely believed to have not been present, but roll with me here.
> 
> Be mindful of the capitalization of certain terms--they're capitalized for a reason; they're proper nouns.
> 
> I have three chapters of this written but the whole story mapped. So we'll see where we go!


	2. Accelerando

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dua returns to Nirn.

**Accelerando (adv.): accelerating, gradually pressing tempo.**

_This chapter contains in-game dialogue from the Morrowind Zone Story and from the Mnemonic Planisphere quest in the Clockwork City DLC. Obviously, I do not own that—Bethesda/ZOS do. I’m just playing in their sandbox._

She felt nothing.

Dua was and was not. She had, and had not. Wherever, whenever, Dua was, the tactile was beyond her. _Or was it beneath her?_

Some distant, molecular part of her realized she was in The Void, and while she couldn’t physically feel anything, the distinct lack of Tones in the fabric of reality around her was disconcerting. They had always been there, as constantly present as the air she breathed, and their absence left her feeling bereft.

A presence invaded her space and she instinctually yielded to it. In a blast of surprisingly physical feeling heat (despite her incorporeal form) Dua was bombarded with images, smells, sounds, and Tones.

She saw a Defiance. A Curse. Anguish. A War, which drew someone she loved ( _what was his name again?_ ) from a pristine island to a war-torn mainland. A widow fighting with a familiar sword to cast out invaders of a distant land. A man conflicted, embracing duality. She saw a compact made, a compact defied, and souls torn from one plane to the next. 

In a flash, things became less certain, less steady. She saw the Numidium reach its nefarious purpose, she saw a land destroyed by uniting conquest. She saw Resdayn covered in ash and death. And then the entity imparting upon her these visions ( _Padomay?_ ) froze on a moment for her as if sensing that this moment could somehow be of more driving significance than the destruction she’d thus far witnessed.

A woman with fiery hair to match her own, _Ayem, Almalexia,_ stood in her intricate Indoril armor, that cursed sword white-knuckled in her right hand, before a very familiar, white-haired figure. Though his face was concealed by the brass her people had so favored, she recognized him all the same and his name returned to her. Sil.

Almalexia’s words were muted, muffled, incomprehensible as in a dream, but Dua could feel the force of her anguish and it threatened to crush them both under its weight. Ayem yelled at Sil with such vehemence that Dua could see spittle fly from her mouth, yet Sil remained stone-faced. He neither flinched nor gave concession; completely impassive and unreadable, save for hint of guilt in his crimson irises.

With an enraged scream, Almalexia thrust Hopesfire through Sil’s chest in a single, decisive cut, and whatever vertigo Dua had felt upon awakening in the void increased tenfold to the point that she felt she was tearing apart at the seams. 

Though she still felt suspended in deaf darkness, Dua realized she was once more corporeal, and her mouth was opened in a wail. Though she could feel her vocal chords vibrate, the sounds of her anguish were lost to the Void and fell upon deaf ears. Her head began to pound as her mortal mind tried to wrap around the vast amounts of thousands of years of information with which she was being bombarded. As she frantically tried to sift through the fragments of a civilization moving on without her, her mind began to fade and the Void finally swallowed her consciousness whole. In the back of her mind, as the darkness claimed her, a thought resonated; a thought that was not her own.

_"Awaken, my champion, and amend."_

\---------------------------------------

The change from the Void to the waters of the Inner Sea were not as startling as one would think. The vague feeling of weightless suspension was the same, as was the darkness and to a degree, the deafness. What pulled Dua’s consciousness back to Nirn was the comforting feeling of Tones and Creatia around her. How she had missed both in her time in the Void.

“Don’t just gawk at her, you lazy fetchers! Pull her to shore!”

Dua had barely registered the voice before she felt the comforting saltwater around her displace around the mass of another body. A pair of arms wrapped around her shoulders and middle to hoist her above the waves and haul her to land.

She felt several sets of hands on her at once, brushing her wet, matted hair from her face, prying her eyelids open to check for responsiveness.

“Hm. Eyes of a Dunmer, but the wrong complexion for it. A half-breed maybe?” She felt her sopping hair brushed further back, revealing the sharp points of her ears. “Ears of a mer, though.”

“It’s hardly the time for this, yeah? Can we focus on keeping her alive?”

Dua felt compressions on her chest and suddenly remembered she needed to breathe. She tried to suck a gasping inhale, but water rushed forth from her lungs instead. The men around her shifted her side as she coughed and retched the seawater on the damp soil.

“Alright there, Outlander?”

Her eyes flickered open to see an ashen-skinned man with eyes the color of blood hovering above her. Dunmer. Chimer, cursed by Azura as punishment for…for…her thoughts grew hazy. It was difficult to sift through the millennia of knowledge dumped unceremoniously into her mortal mind. She would have to take it slowly.

Dua moaned in response to the Dunmer’s question and shifted to sit herself up. Upon doing so, she realized she was naked save the brass bangles cuffed around her biceps and the little brass earrings lining her ears, and quickly moved to shield her breasts with her arms. Despite the warm humidity of Resdayn ( _Morrowind_ , she internally corrected), she was shivering. Luckily the men around her were more chivalrous than lecherous, and one covered her with a rough-hewn cloak.

“Can you stand? By the Three—how did you end up in the waters outside Seyda Neen?” one of her rescuers asked.

_Seyda Neen. Marshland. Port. Settlement…House…House…which House?_

“I…I don’t remember,” Dua said, speaking for the first time. Her voice was gravelly from both disuse and the water she’d hacked up. She closed her eyes against the harsh midday sun and kept them closed tightly.

“No matter, we’ll get you taken care of.” The man seemed to accept her uncertainty for the time being, which was a relief because Dua was reeling from her return to Nirn. She wracked her addled brain for somewhere to go, someone who could help her. She wasn’t even certain what the year was, how much time had passed, or if what the entity in the Void had shown her was the past, present, or future. Or even if it could or would happen at all.

Her confusion and the inability to shift through memories of events she had not been present for was slowly morphing into a panic attack. Her chest was constricting, and a thin sheen of sweat had prickled across her skin, despite her chill. Her thoughts were so scattered that she was struggling to remember to draw breath and her mouth tasted of metal.

“Easy now, easy now. We’ll get you someplace safe.” The man had given up assisting her to stand and instead had picked her up, and she felt the soothing rush of a Calm spell wash over her. 

This served to increase her panic further, and she inadvertently lashed out with Divinity rather than magicka, making the man holding her drop her sharply with a yelp. Dua pried her eyes open to see the man was okay ( _praise the Et’Ada for that_ ) but was looking at her as though he’d seen a ghost. _He practically has_ , she supposed.

She propped herself up uncertainly on her elbows, cloak still tightly hugged around herself.

“Apologies, serjo,” she murmered. _Fuck, was that the right honorofic?_ “Sun magic is a specialty of mine and it was an accident in my confusion.” Due hoped the lie was believable. Divinity and Sun magic from Auri-El shared a lot of hallmarks, after all.

He stared at her with wide eyes before nodding and gesturing for permission to lift her again. Dua nodded her assent and he carried her to a small building that smelled strongly of herbs and illness. A healer, then. She was uncertain about what healing would reveal, and began to insist to the very kind human ( _Breton,_ her mind supplied) resident alchemist that she was fine, but would love to buy a robe or dress to wear. The alchemist pursed her lips in disapproval but nodded in sympathy and brought Dua a used robe to change into.

As Dua changed into the grey and burgundy robe, she stole a glance at her reflection and at once understood what the men were talking about. While her skin looked much as it always had—a pale a slightly shimmering silver that wouldn’t fool a Dunmer, but might appear elven enough to a human—her eyes were no longer the vivid green she’d assumed were inherited from her mother. Instead, they were a startling bright red, just a hair darker than pink, akin to the seeds of a pomegranate. Her hair seemed brighter, more ginger orange than the red it once was, though the length was much the same, reaching the impractical length of mid-back. Even among the Dunmer, she did not look like she belonged. 

Returning to the main room of the apothecary, Dua gave a slight bow to the healer and alchemist before her. 

“Sera, I beg your pardon. I’ve only just arrived and I’m having trouble getting my bearings. Is there a city nearby?” Dua asked, hoping to find some semblance of familiarity in a larger city. The woman before her nodded. 

“Vivec is just south of here, while Balmora is to the north. The silt strider can take you to either.” 

_Vivec?_ Dua frowned. _As in the person Vivec?_ Something felt…off. She thanked the woman and headed to the road instead of the strider. Without a single possession to her name for money for passage, walking was her best option. She was hoping to regain enough strength to portal soon. 

As she approached the street, she saw several Dunmer in what appeared to be religious regalia gathered around a heavily armored fallen soldier. A figure approached hurriedly. 

“There’s an Armiger injured on the road over there. So much blood—they need help!” she huffed panickily. 

Dua instinctively reached out to steady the Dunmer. “Tell me what happened, if you can.” 

The woman nodded and took a breath, trying to calm herself. 

“I’m not exactly sure,” she began. “The Buoyant Armiger was accompanying Canon Valasa on a mission for Lord Vivec, but something terrible must have happened!” Dua felt her brows pull into a frown. _Lord Vivec?_ She wracked her brain for details, but it was like a door slamming shut anytime she tried to access information on her former friend. 

“Rest, sera. I’ll go find Canon Valasa.” The woman nodded and began wandering into Seyda Neen, in the direction of the healer Dua had just left. 

“Forgive me, Outlander, but I have enough to deal with,” a mer who could only be Canon Valasa snapped as Dua approached. Dua bit her tongue against a retort that she was _anything but_ an Outlander—her people had been in Resdayn first! Oblivious to Dua’s discomfort, the Canon continued. “I'm just a simple Tribunal priest, and the trouble at the ancestral tomb was too much for even our Buoyant Armiger to deal with. I have failed Lord Vivec and left a colleague alone at the tomb." 

Dua was about sick of not knowing what in Oblivion was going on with Vivec and the rest of Nerevar’s Tribunal counselors, but it seemed like the only way she was going to figure it out would be to assist these priests. 

“What happened at the ancestral tomb?” 

The priest finally looked up at Dua and seemed to start. Dua had a feeling her appearance was going to be getting that a lot, at least from Dunmer. She hesitated before speaking to Dua once more. 

“Lord Vivec sent the three of us to seek guidance at the Andrano ancestral tomb,” the priest explained. “We were attacked when we got there and our guard was seriously hurt. I barely got her to safety, but we failed to complete the mission Lord Vivec bestowed upon us." 

Dua looked around her. _Am I miscounting?_ “Canon Valasa, you said there were three of you—where is the third?” 

“Canon Llevule. He remained behind after we retreated from the tomb. I know he wants to get back inside and ask Lord Vivec's questions, but there's no way he can get past the Daedra or ask the questions on his own.” Canon Valasa bowed her head and took a shuddering breath. “May the Three grant him wisdom." 

Dua sighed. She was unarmed except for her magicka and had no staff to help channel it. She shouldn’t go after the boy, and yet… 

“I’ll go find Canon Llevule. Please take your companions and head to safety. Can Canon Llevule direct me back to…”she hesitated, still uncertain of what in Oblivion was going on with Vivec. “…to Vivec City afterward?” 

“I’m certain that he can, sera. Thank you, Three Bless you for your kindness, and may they guide your steps.” 

Suddenly, one of the bystanders from Seyda Neen convulsed before a shining light spilled from her every pore. It made Dua’s hair stand on end—it felt so opposite to the Divinity coursing through her veins. 

“By Dawn and Dusk, evil creeps through the shadows of my beloved Vvardenfell. But a godling returns to her homeland to aid my people. Not the Savior I preferred, but the Savior available, it seems.” The voice spilling from the woman before them was clearly not her own. Dua felt a wave of nausea—to know who and what she was, this could only be a Daedric Prince. Given the opening sentiment, she knew to whom she was speaking. 

“Lady Azura,” Dua regarded the possessed woman before her. 

“ _Lady_ Duakagre,” Azura’s voice mocked. “Welcome home.” The possessed woman crumpled to the ground, and as swiftly as it had come, Azura’s presence was gone. 

“Lord Vivec protect me! That was Azura, the Queen of the Night Sky! And you - she spoke directly to you!” The Canon was beside herself as she regarded Dua. “I'm surprised the Daedric Prince would risk Lord Vivec's wrath to proclaim a prophecy. And did she…are you familiar with Azura?” 

“Not as familiar as she appears to be with me,” Dua murmured. She decided to head to the tomb as swiftly as possible before both the “godling” comment and her name began to raise questions within the Canon. 

As Dua rounded a nearby corner, still shaken from the attentions of the Daedric Prince, she saw a nervous looking young Dunmer man in priest robes. 

“Did Canon Valasa send you? She did, didn't she! That means she made it to Seyda Neen. Vivec be praised!” the young mer said, relieved. “Will you help me complete my mission? It would be sacrilege if I don't enter my family's tomb and make Lord Vivec's inquiries." 

_You have no idea about sacrilege, kid._

“I’m here to help you, Canon. My name is Dua.” 

Llevule looked so relieved that Dua found herself smiling for the first time since awakening. 

"As the Saints declare, the Tribunal always provides. We'll need to be cautious, however. Daedra invaded the tomb. Makes it hard to talk to one's ancestors while monsters try to eat you!” 

“I understand. You’ll find me a fairly competent combatant, I think. Do you need any other assistance?” 

“Take this scroll with Lord Vivec's inquiries. While I summon forth my ancestor's spirit and concentrate on maintaining the connection, you must ask the questions. He insists we use the exact phrasing.” He thrust a scroll into Dua’s hands and she began to open it, but he stilled her hand. “We need to reach my ancestor as soon as possible.” Dua nodded and they headed inside. 

The tomb was, indeed, infested with Daedra. Dua’s magicka reserves had restored enough that she was able to dispatch them with an ease that she was afraid was making the young Canon suspicious. She decided to ask some questions to distract him. 

“So. Who is this ancestor of yours?” 

“Oh! I am descended from Lady Farena Andrano, “ he said with pride. Dua nearly choked and stifled her reaction with a hand. 

“Farena…Farena Andrano? The apprentice of Sotha Sil?” Dua asked. Llevule was beaming with pride. 

“You’ve heard of her?” he asked eagerly. 

“You could say that,” Dua said quietly. A memory snapped to life before she could stop it. 

_Farena and Sil were standing close together, both pouring over a tome, speaking in hushed tones, and Duakagre couldn’t help the spike of jealousy that coursed through her. It was illogical, she knew. Sil wasn’t hers and he couldn’t be. Whatever they shared, whatever was felt beyond the physical, was not destined to flourish. They were from different worlds._

__

__

_“Ahem.” Dua cleared her throat and made herself known. Though she and Farena were on good terms, the Chimer sized her up immediately and Dua couldn’t help but feel inadequate when compared to the beautiful sorceress before her. Her white gold hair was tied up in an intricate knot of braids, though tendrils spilled out and framed her face in a picturesque way. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of bluish violet, long eyelashes coated in lacquer to make them appear longer. She wore intricately woven robes and soft satin slippers, with bangles around her wrists and neck. She stood half a head taller than Dua and oozed both grace and brilliance._

_Dua saw Farena’s eyes land on her perpetually bare feet with barely concealed disgust._

_“Lady Duakagre,” Farena said in her soft, lyrical voice. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?”_

_Dua walked forward and with a small wave, conjured a small brass pot of Dwarven oil. She gave a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes._

_“I’m just bringing this for Master Sil. I’ll be on my way.” Dua walked up beside Sil as he regarded her carefully and she sat the pot on the table beside his hand, her fingertips brushing the back of his golden skin softly with the motion. She looked up and met his piercing golden gaze before blushing and excusing herself from the room._

Coming back to reality and realizing she’d been decimating daedra with unusual fury, Dua and Llevule headed finally into the ash chamber to contact Farena. 

Llevule bowed his head and began to pray, as a blue specter appeared before them. 

“Hasn't my rest been disturbed enough by those filthy Daedra? Why do you summon me, descendent?" 

“My Lord Vivec has inquiries that only you can answer, my lady. My companion will present them, with your permission." 

Farena’s attention finally turned to Dua and she froze. Dua could sense the surprise even if it couldn’t be seen on her features. 

“Lady Duakagre. I was quite certain you were dead.” Farena tilted her spectral head and Llevule’s eyes widened upon realizing his ancestor spirit knew the woman assisting him. “Very well. Ask the Warrior-Poet’s questions. But know, my Lady, that we will have words after.” 

Dua swallowed hard and opened the scroll. “Lord Vivec asks, ‘The heart of the world, key to ascension, should I be filled with apprehension?’” _He’s not…is he asking about the Heart?_

"Ah, Lord Vivec always had a way with words!” Farena said with a ghostly cackle. It made the hair on Dua’s arms stand on end. “Tell him to rest assured. The Heart remains safe. I wonder why that concerns him?” 

Dua continued. “Lord Vivec asks, ‘Has the enemy of old returned, so devious and bold?’” 

"An enemy of old, yes, but not the one that Vivec presumes." 

Dua was starting to put together pieces with help from the memories swirling in her mind. “Lord Vivec asks, ‘Did Sotha Sil…’” Dua paused, closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “’Did Sotha Sil in his unending crusade know our divinity would shrivel and fade?’" 

Her hesitance hadn’t gone unnoticed and Farena’s countenance reeked amusement. 

"Sotha Sil imagined multiple scenarios and contemplated endless solutions. He even experimented with his divinity, drawing energy to study before returning it. Loss will come, he foresaw, but not until the collapse of the Temple.” She turned to Llevule. “Now, descendant. Give us a moment, if you please.” Llevule looked confused and apprehensive but gave a short bow, thanked Lady Andrano, and waited outside the room. 

She returned her attention to Duakagre. 

“I must admit, Lady Duakagre. I did not expect to see you alive. Neither, I think, will he.” She floated as close as she was able. “You are just as lovely as you were all those millennia ago. If I had known then that I was competing for Seht’s affections with a literal goddess, I wouldn’t have even tried,” she said with another cackle. 

“I’m not a goddess, and it was a competition you would always win, Lady Andrano. I could not have Sil any more than I could pluck the stars from the Aubris.” 

Lady Andrano scoffed. “Foolish girl. For all of your intelligence, you lack the wisdom of the heart. You’ve always had him.” Farena’s spectral irises met hers and Dua was met with a memory that was not her own. 

_Farena pressed a kiss to Sil’s cheek and again, he failed to respond. Though she and Sil had been seeing each other since Duakagre’s disappearance, Sil was never truly present with her. She stepped back and crossed her arms, regarding Sil coolly._

_“You're just so cold to me. You never seem to open up.” she said as Sil turned back to his wok table without a word. “I can't be with you like this. We're not equals. We never have been.” Though he said nothing, his shoulders slumped forward a bit further, his hair falling over one shoulder to shield his face. Farena had made up her mind. “I don't wish to say goodbye, but I fear I must. We're worlds apart, you and I.” She turned for the door and never looked back._

Dua was jerked back to the present as Lady Andrano scoffed. 

“He is not the man he was before the Battle, Duakagre,” she said with more softness and familiarity to her tone. “Whether it was your fate or the Heart that closed him off, I am not certain. Perhaps it was both. He might yet be saved, you know. But you certainly have an uphill battle ahead of you.” And with that, she was gone. 

\---------------------------------------

Canon Llevule paid her passage to Vivec City as a thank you for her assistance, and they rode in a very uncomfortable silence the entirety of the way there. Apparently, the canon knew better than to pry into matters that might be over his head.

Around the halfway mark, Dua had gathered the courage to call through her link to Sil, and felt nothing on the other end. She was resigned to the fact that he had severed it. It made sense, but she was still disappointed.

Upon arriving, the canon thanked her again and hurried off to the Hall of Justice, leaving Dua to approach the city alone.

Vivec City reminded her much of its master: flamboyantly beautiful yet imposing.

As Dua weaved her way through the cantons, she couldn’t help but notice how genuinely happy the Dunmer of Vivec City seemed to be. Though still under construction, it was apparent from the moment she crossed onto the first canton that Vivec City was destined to be a cultural mecca on Vvardenfell.

Eternally grateful for the simple-yet-stylish robe she’d acquired in Seyda Neen, Dua nearly blended in with the Dunmer around her. Her newly ruby-hued irises seemed to indicate her Dunmeri heritage enough that the more metropolitan citizens of Vivec City largely paid her no mind.

She struggled to maintain a tight hold on hiding her Power as she approached Vivec’s ostentatious (but beautiful) palace. There were a lot of things she wanted to say to him as her old friend, but there were many things she wanted to say to him in his apparent new role of god-king as well. 

_Like ‘how dare you’ for starters._

As her emotions roiled while she began the ascent to Vivec’s temple, she found it harder and harder to disguise her divinity. She eyed the Ordinators and Armigers along the stairs nervously as she considered the repercussions of letting said disguise slip.

She paused at the summit, expecting to be stopped by Vivec’s personal guard, but was not. Instead, they opened the doors for her. 

_Well, at least Vivec is acting as a benevolent and outwardly caring god-king._

The moment she crossed the threshold into his receiving room, Dua was bombarded with the presence of Lorkhan’s stolen divinity. She nearly flinched and much as she had trouble in the presence of the Heart, she struggled then to hide what she was. Steeling herself as best she could, Dua walked further into the expansive room to greet one of her oldest friends.

Vivec was sitting cross-legged mid-air and reeked of power. Dua could feel it, smell it, hear it, and nearly taste it; it permeated his presence thickly. When she had made it about halfway across the room, he swiftly turned his head in her direction, abruptly away from the priest to whom he seemed to be speaking. Upon seeing her, he froze.

Apparently, he had recognized her, which was more than she could say for herself. As a mortal, Vivec had golden skin, though not as emphasized as it…half…was in this moment. His eyes had always been startlingly blue, the colors of the clearest sapphires. She struggled for a moment before recalling his hair—it had been pitch black and excessively long, always in a high horsetail. As it were now, it seemed he had replaced an already ostentatious hairstyle with one even more extreme: arcane fire.

“Archcanon, could I have a moment alone with our guest.” Though he’d phrased it as a question, Vivec’s statement was clearly meant as an order. Dua wasn’t surprised, given everything else, that Vivec had chosen not to dampen the Tone lacing his voice.

“Of course, Lord Vivec,” the shorter Dunmer Vivec had been speaking to said with a flourishing bow. He turned and eyed Dua curiously before Vivec's voice called out again.

“Please, take the Armigers with you as you go.”

At the request, the archcanon paused with an “are you certain” sort of look about him and he sized Dua up warily, but he (wisely) offered a short bow and complied, leaving the room empty.

Dua took a few more steps forward until she was within five yards or so of the God-King. With each step she took, she let more of her glamor slip. Vivec lowered his feet to the floor and stood before her, seemingly unsure what to say. Finally, he spoke, and his first query caught her off guard.

“Does he know you’re…here?” Dua could have sworn that ‘here’ wasn’t the first choice of wording for the Warrior-Poet. She’d clearly startled him with her appearance if he, of all people, couldn’t find the words to express himself.

“Does _who_ know?” Dua had a pretty good idea ‘who’.

“Seht,” Vivec said almost curtly, crossing his arms over his chest. He never was good with stress. “Does he know you’re alive? That you’re on Nirn? That you’re even in this kalpa?”

“Vivec, _I_ barely know that I’m in this kalpa,” Dua hissed in sudden irritation. “I woke up in the Inner Sea off the coast of Seyda Neen six hours ago. In that short time, I was swept up into helping a 'living god,' who, turns out, is _you_ of all people!” She threw her hands in the air in exasperation. “Imagine my surprise when I’m not only tasked with assisting a very nervous young canon in forcing back daedra to speak to his ancestor, but that ancestor is Farena Andrano, Sil’s former apprentice. Imagine your young canon’s confusion when his ancestor spoke to me familiarly!” 

Vivec uncrossed his arms and shook his head to himself before approaching Dua. He stopped only a body’s width in front of her, and when Dua looked up to meet his dual-toned eyes, she was swiftly swept away by the emotion in their depths.

“I apologize, Lady Duakagre. Your appearance has startled me. I did not intend to take out my disquiet on you. Now that I am becoming more familiar with your presence I must say that I am glad for it. If I may, where have you been?” Vehk reached a hand up to lightly grasp Dua by the bicep, affectionately.

“The Void.” 

Dua broke eye contact and crossed her arms, folding into herself. “Is there somewhere else we might speak? I need to sit down, I think.”

Vivec nodded and she felt the familiar pull at her core that indicated she was being displaced. Dua blinked and they were in a dimly lit circular chamber, much like the receiving chamber she’d just been in, that contained a large bed and a multitude of pillows strewn across the floor. The air was warm and thick with incense smoke, and Dua found it relaxing. _Probably not what Vivec uses this room for, relaxing._ She selected a pillow and lounged on it, grateful for the small comfort. Once Vivec had seated himself near her, she began.

“My consciousness has floated in the Void since that moment in the Heart Chamber.” She looked to the faint scarring up the backs of her hands and arms. “I felt that I was being unmade. That’s why I tried to move you and Sil as far from me as possible. Something, or someone, intervened. I have to assume Padomay did, though I can’t fathom why I would be worth preserving.” She realized she was picking at the hem of her borrowed robe in a childish fit of anxiety. She looked up to see Vivec’s reaction—he’d been strangely silent—and found him leaned slightly forward and focused on her intently. “I was aware to a degree. Or I suppose some part of me was. I find that I just…know things. Things I shouldn’t. When I saw a Dunmer in Seyda Neen for the first time, I knew they were the cursed Chimer, though I’d not witnessed the transformation. I have seen…outcomes…of this Kalpa, I have a sense of what is to come, an intrinsic drive along a path to…correct? I can’t explain it. But then other things I am completely blind to. I couldn’t sense you at all, none of you. I have no idea what happened to the five of you once I disappeared from the chamber—you’re a shrouded island in a sea of near-omniscience, it seems.” She paused, waiting for Vivec to interject at the onslaught of information. When he didn’t, she added one last thing. “I can’t feel Sil through our link. Is he…I mean you asked if he knew so…he’s alright, isn’t he?” She shook her head with a rueful smile. “Not that I expect him to still harbor anything for me, or to wish to seek me out, I just…” she trailed off vaguely.

Vivec finally spoke. 

“Sil is fine,” Vivec said before pausing. “Or I should say, as fine as he has been since that day. I haven’t spoken with him in some time—I speak to Almalexia—” Dua’s face pulled into an involuntary grimace, and her sudden rush of disdain startled her. Vivec noticed. “—far more often than I speak to my brother.” Vivec sighed. “Why are we using words? We are beings of divinity; let me show you.” Dua met Vivec’s eyes and immediately felt an onslaught of colors, words, feelings, and images until they settled into some semblance of order.

_There was a magnificent brass world that put her people’s creations to shame. She saw acolytes and scientists hard at work in a gleaming brass city, smelled the tang of heated brass and magicka that had once reminded her of home. It was magnificent, and she knew Seht had created it by his own hand._

__

__

_Vivec’s thoughts shifted and she was face to face with Sotha Sil. No longer was Sil of a fair, golden complexion as she remembered; he now shared the bluish-ashen tone of the Dunmer. **Guilt, she realized as a piece of the puzzle slammed into place.** He took their cursed appearance because he felt guilt for causing it. His golden irises were a glimmering ruby red, shining like a kaleidoscope in various crimson hues when she looked closer. His long white hair remained, as pristine as always, though both his face and head were partially covered in a brass helm. What startled her most were his hands: both had been replaced with mechanical brass, and it seemed as though his entire left arm, up to his shoulder, had also been replaced. Looking down at his pristine white robes, she noticed his feet were bare._

Vivec dropped the connection and she felt dampness on her cheeks. Reaching for her face, she realized she’d been crying. 

“Vivec, what have you done? The three of you…surely you saw the destruction and pain the Heart wrought? I was nearly unmade, and yet the three of you…” Dua paused and her eyes widened. “Seht is the only one who could have wielded my father’s tools. Please tell me he didn’t…” she ran her hands over her face roughly, pausing to massage her temples. “Vivec, why?” 

For the first time in their conversation, Vivec looked uncertain, even a bit shaken. He shifted to lounge on an elbow and sighed heavily. 

“The simple answer, is we wanted to do good in the world—to remove the Daedra’s influence on our people. A more complicated answer, is Sil was obsessed with finding you,” Vivec said, carefully gauging her reaction. “He wanted to know if you’d been dissolved into the Aubris with your people, if you were elsewhere. If you were dead in some plane of Oblivion. He was obsessed, initially. He threw himself further into his work until he realized he could use the Tools in a similar way to how Kagrenac had used them on you. Though clearly it wasn’t exactly the same—we have to work to maintain and refresh our Divinity, yet it seems yours is a fundamental part of you.” He shook his head. “Nerevar forbade us from using the Tools and entrusted them with Voryn. I don’t think I have to tell you what the Heart did to Voryn. He was enraptured and infatuated with it from the moment he saw it. I also don’t imagine you need to be told of the destructive power of Keening—I think I finally understand why your father chose the shape of a dagger. Nerevar was bleeding out in that chamber for the second time and we were faced with a choice, and well…Nerevar isn’t here anymore.” 

Dua slumped forward and Vivec sighed heavily. 

“Are you telling me the truth, Vivec?” she asked quietly after a moment. 

“Do you believe I am?” 

“No, I don't.” 

“It is the truth as I know it, Duakagre,” Vivec said with finality. 

Dua sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Vivec’s tone said he would speak no more of it today. 

“Back to your little problem then. If someone is siphoning Divinity, the repercussions could be disastrous. Lady Andrano indicated it is not the Heart, and though an old enemy is involved, it wasn’t the one you believed. I’m not going to pretend to know your enemies, Vivec, and I won’t pry, but who or what are you dealing with here?” 

Vivec exhaled through his nose and crossed his arms. 

“I believe we’re dealing with a Daedric Prince. I’m just…not certain which, nor to what capacity. There is an Ashlander wielding a staff of unknown origin that has my Archcanon concerned. In fact…” Vivec paused, looking thoughtful. “I need you to accompany a Dunmer named Ethasi Andrethi to Ald’Ruhn. The Archcanon sent her to investigate the Ashlander, and she’s stopped in Sadrith Mora for a few days’ reprieve before continuing on to Ald’Ruhn.” 

“Vehk, are you serious? I quite literally rematerialized hours ago. I can’t go traipsing across Vvardenfell like a glorified bodyguard! I need rest, armor, a new staff…” 

Vivec continued as though Dua hadn’t spoken. “She’s what denizens of Tamriel are calling The Vestige--she went toe to toe with Molag Bal and emerged the victor. As such, I have the utmost faith in her abilities. I think you’ll quite like her.” Vivec waved his hand and opened a portal. His face had taken on an air of mischief with which Dua was well-acquainted. 

“Vivec, I’m not gallivanting off to—” 

“I can get you to her quickly. Say hello to our old friend for me when you get there,” Vivec said with a wink before lifting Dua into the air with telekinesis and shoving her through his portal with an all-too-familiar laugh. 

_“Vivec!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapters! A lot of this story, up through Summerset, is going to follow quests. Not all of them will be like this where they're so in-depth, letter-for-letter. The Vesitge is in this story, and she will appear next chapter. Having Dua along for quests will obviously change the circumstances of the quests and how they'll function.
> 
> Also note: those little random italic interjections? They're internal thought!


	3. Toccata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toccata (n): a musical composition for a keyboard instrument designed to exhibit the performer's touch and technique.

Dua landed with a thud on a small island in the middle of the marshlands of Sadrith Mora. She had known quite a few Telvanni wizards in the past, and a part of her hoped the nihilistic geniuses hadn’t changed in the millennia since she’d last seen any of them. If the tower before her was any indication, they hadn’t.

Vivec had dropped her rather unceremoniously on the shore, and Dua spent a moment straightening her borrowed robes and dusting herself off before turning towards the tower. As she approached the door, she was stopped by a heavily armed guard of House Telvanni.

“What business have you at Tel Fyr?” the woman asked from behind her helmet. Dua grinned broadly. _Tel Fyr?_ Dua knew a Chimer with the surname Fyr, and he’d been a formidable sorcerer. Was this what Vivec had meant by saying hi to a friend? Dua decided to chance it.

“I’m an old friend. I’m sure if you asked… _Master_ Fyr, he could confirm,” Dua replied, hoping again she’d chosen the correct honorific.

She could feel the guards giving her a once over before the one who had spoken jerked her head at the door, granting permission to enter.

The interior of Tel Fyr was just as magnificent as the other towers she’d visited, though Divayth kept his a bit more orderly, and it seemed as though the upper chambers of his tower, likely containing his lab or study and private quarters, were much higher up, thus requiring more magicka than usual to levitate to the upper floors. A few fairly well-dressed Argonians milled about, along with a young Bosmeri woman.

To the right sat a severe looking older Dunmer woman with salt-and-pepper hair pulled into a tight bun. Her red eyes were so dark they nearly looked black and her arms were crossed over her chest as she regarded Dua. On the desk in front of her was correspondence she seemed to be sifting through, and Dua could see a name in bold Daedric script addressing the envelopes. _So it is Divayth_.

“And who are you?” the woman at the desk asked Dua, standing from her seat but not uncrossing her arms. Her dress was heavily ornamented with swirls of red and gold embroidery in the signature Telvanni swirls across satiny black fabric.

“I’m an…old friend of Master Fyr. Is he available?” Dua hoped that would suffice. She didn’t have it in her to just up and levitate to his impossibly high hatch at the moment.

The woman cocked a hip in a clear show of annoyance.

“Do you have an appointment with Master Fyr?” she questioned, eyes narrowed. “If not, I shall speak in his stead. I am his Steward, Irra Telvanni.”

“I don’t but I was sent by Viv--uh, Lord Vivec.” Dua ran a hand through her unbound hair in mild frustration. “I assure you he’ll want to see me.” Irra narrowed her eyes.

“What did you say was your name?”

“I didn’t. My name is Duakagre.” A thump sounded from the upper level—it seemed someone had been eavesdropping. A moment later, a young Dunmer woman with auburn hair and brilliant ruby eyes cast slow fall and descended from the study.

“Lady Duakagre. I’m Ethasi Andrethi—Divayth will be down shortly. I’m his apprentice.” Ethasi was the exact opposite of what Dua would have expected for an apprentice of Divayth’s. While she was quite pretty, she had an air of energy about her that contrasted sharply to Divayth’s calm and calculating demeanor.

“Yes, just my _apprentice_ ,” a familiar voice said with a soft snort. All three women looked to the hatch where Divayth was slow-falling to greet them. Ethasi flushed bright purple and cringed. Dua stifled a laugh—good to know Divayth had changed exactly none in the ensuing millennia, he even looked much the same as he had when she’d last seen him. He turned to Dua. “Duakagre, what on Nirn are you doing here? And _where_ have you been?”

His once white-blonde hair, piercing golden eyes and golden skin had shifted with Azura’s curse, as they had for all Chimer, leaving him with long, shock-white hair, pale grey skin and red irises, yet he looked middle-aged, only slightly older than when she’d last seen him. He wore dark Telvanni robes in hues of black, silver and blood red, denoting him a master.

“Divayth, you seem well. You’ve barely aged a day since I last saw you,” Dua said with a fond smile. “And you’ve no idea how nice it is to see a familiar face; one that hasn’t mantled some sort of bastardized godhood.” Dua once more found her emotions roiling. While she’d certainly never been cold, she couldn’t remember having been quite so emotional prior to that fateful day with the Heart.

Sensing her simultaneous relief and turmoil, Divayth cracked a small smile and stepped forward to embrace her. Dua surprised herself by returning his tight embrace—she’d not realized just how touch and comfort starved she was.

Stepping back, Dua hastily wiped a stray tear from her face. “Gods, I’m sorry, Divayth. It seems spending millennia in the Void leaves one a bit shaky once they rematerialize.” Divayth’s face was neutral again, the small smile vanished, but he didn’t chastise her.

“Let’s find a more private place to speak, yes?” Divayth asked. “Are you feeling up to levitating?” At the tight, sheepish smile she offered in response, Divayth sighed and wrapped an arm around her waist to bring her to the second level of the tower.

Rest was more needed than Dua had initially realized. While she filled Divayth and Ethasi in on what had transpired in the hours since her arrival, Irra prepared a bath and spare bed for her in a small side room of Divayth’s lab. Divayth listened without comment for the most part, only humming thoughtfully, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

Finally, once she’d recapped everything she could think to, Divayth sent her to bed, informing her that she and Ethasi could discuss the troubling development with the Ashlander claiming to be the Nerevarine, and his suspiciously helpful sister, in the morning.

She made quick work of the borrowed robes and stood naked before the tall mirror in what was serving as her guest room. It was clearly meant as a storage closet, and the organic walls were lined with shelves of various jars and scattered tomes. She gave herself another once over, this time with a moment to really catalogue changes.

As she stepped closer to the mirror, the first thing she noticed was the scar Keening had left above her heart. Unlike a normal, puckered puncture scar, it lay flat against her skin, looking more like a white-silver tattoo in that the scarred flesh blended so well with the rest of her skin. She had lost quite a bit of weight, she realized, and her already diminutive form was nearly wraithlike in its bony, sinewy stature. She brushed her fingers along visible ribs with a frown. It seems she didn’t return to Nirn in the same condition in which she parted it.

Shaking off the concern and realizing she would just have to regain strength, Dua sank into the hot waters of the bath with a sigh and got to work removing the days’ worth of dried salt water, sweat, and ash that had accumulated, before drying off and moving to the small cot nearby.

As she sank beneath the blessedly soft covers, Dua fell into a dreamless sleep. For the first time in millennia, her consciousness rested.

\--------------

“Oh for the love of—you know better, Duakagre. Strip and get on the thrice-damned table.”

And that was how Dua found herself the next morning, in nothing but her underthings laid across a wooden table, with Divayth Fyr staring down at her as if she were some puzzle box to be solved and tinkered with. Ethasi had left for the Cave of the Incarnate to meet with a wise woman of some sort, and Dua had remained behind for an…examination.

His hands glowed a soft blue and Dua winced reflexively before relaxing once again.

“How does your particular _flavor_ of divnity compare to that of the Tribunal?” Divayth asked, as Dua’s body lit up blue and hummed with arcane energy.

“I haven’t the slightest idea, Divayth. It wasn’t as though Kagrenac gave me free reign to _play_ with it and find out.”

Divayth hummed thoughtfully and dispelled the spell.

“You’re in decent condition.” Dua snorted at this observation, being spoken of as if she were an _artifact_ and not a _person_. “Though you’re looking quite thin. And what in the name of the et’Ada is that scarring?”

“That would be from where I was being ripped apart by a Tonal Frequency that shouldn’t have existed,” Dua muttered with a huff. “Until intervention of some sort or another just…removed me.”

“Ah yes, the intervention. Who or what do you believe intervened?” Divayth had turned his back to where she remained prone across the table and was jotting something down in a journal. Dua propped herself onto an elbow to face his back.

“Would you believe me if I said Padomay?”

The scratching of the quill stopped, though Divayth made no move to turn to face her.

“I suppose, given recent developments, I would believe just about anything.” He still did not turn to face her, but the scratching of his quill had resumed. “I don’t mean offense, Duakagre, but I fail to understand why Padomay would interfere.”

Dua had considered this as well. She was uncertain how deep her divinity ran, or just what she was capable of beyond the manipulation of tones when desperation called for it. There seemed to be no logical reason that Padomay would be invested in her being. Divayth spoke again, interrupting Dua’s thoughts.

“Duakagre, do you know of the Shezzarine?”

The word sparked a memory. A memory of frustration from her father, a memory of him _angry_ for the first time she could recall.

She frowned at Divayth as he turned and began to approach her.

“Lorkhan’s chosen. Kagrenac _loathed_ the idea that there was a Northern Barbarian—an Atmoran, perhaps?—walking around with the power he coveted for the Numidium. He saw it as one more hurtle between him and his hopes for the Numidium.”

Divayth hummed again. “Correct. But it’s not as if the power only chooses nords…”

Duakagre cut him off. “I’m not a Shezzarine, Divayth. It’s a silly thing to conjecture. Lorkhan, or Padomay… _whomever_ , would not chose a mortal who’d already been _stealing the power._ Everything my father did was to spit in the face of the gods. Imagine how he’d feel…if his test subject…” Dua trailed off and her eyes widened as she laid back against the cool wood of the table as Divayth approached her again.

“Perhaps the ‘gods’ spat back,” Divayth mused. He let his hands hover a few inches above her skin. “This will likely hurt.”

And that was the only warning she got before his hands lit a sickly turquoise color and Dua’s magicka reared forth almost reflexively. Her teeth clenched and her head slammed back against the wood as it felt like her magicka was being ripped through her pores. It was over after a moment, but the strain was apparent by the thin sheen of sweat covering her skin.

“What the _fuck_ , Divayth?” she hissed, skin aching as though she’d been flayed alive. The turquoise color was replaced with gold as the soothing warmth of restoration washed over her skin.

“You reflexively respond with the arcane, not Divinity,” he replied. “I’m not certain I understand what Kagrenac hoped to achieve with you. You had to have been an early prototype-“ Dua snorted indignantly at this “-or he intended for you to serve a different purpose.”

“I had always imagined I was his proof of concept. Proof for Dumac that the Numidium could be powered with the Heart. Proof that the energy the Heart contained could be siphoned, rearranged, and then controlled.”

“Proof that it could be controlled,” Divayth commented with another hum. “But who was to control it; to pilot it?”

“I thought he fancied that he would,” Dua replied, crossing her arms and resting her chin on her hand thoughtfully. “Sunder meant to remove the energy, Keening to move and control it, Wraithguard to protect himself.”

“Was Wraithguard enough to protect himself if he were to pilot the Numidium in its current state?”

“Hold on. ‘In its current state’? Divayth, where is my father’s machine?”

Divayth paused and seemed to have realized he’d revealed too much. He considered his next answer a beat too long.

“It’s still within the mountain. It couldn’t just be dismantled.”

“It _couldn’t_ or they _wouldn’t_ , Divayth?” There was no question who “they” were.

“I believe you know the answer to that, Duakagre.” Divayth turned back to his book to scribble more and Dua hopped off the table. “I hope your intention isn’t to try to oppose them, Duakagre. Divine though you may be, even more so than they are, you do not harness the same amount of sheer divinity the Tribunal does. Whether that is because Sil perfected what you father could not, or because Kagrenac had a different purpose for you, I am not sure. But your divinity, it seems, serves to manipulate and to wield creatia—the Tribunal can create it.”

Dua leaned back against the table and frowned, masking her divinity once more. It was getting easier the longer she did so. Extending her consciousness, she focused on Divayth’s words. Wielding and manipulating existing creatia. Looking to a chair to the side of the room, Dua felt the strands of creatia that formed it and twisted. After a moment, the chair seemed to _warp_ until in its place stood a mushroom. Divayth looked to the new growth, further over his shoulder to Dua, and then back to his notes without comment.

“It’s not as though I can do that endlessly, either.” Dua went off in search of her robes across the room while Divayth scratched away at his parchement.

“Duakagre, have you ever pondered your name?”

“It’s a diminutive of my father’s name,” Dua replied, pulled her robe over her head.

“’Our Song’? And all you get from that is that your father named you in his image?”

>

Dua paused, one arm through the sleeve, the other halfway through the motion.

“Well he was nothing if not a narcissist. What are you implying, Divayth?”

“Perhaps we’ve found the intended pilot.”

\-------

Feeling disturbed, too disturbed to rest as she’d hoped, Dua left Tel Fyr to assist Ethasi. Giving hard thought to Divayth’s words about her manipulation of existing creatia, Dua wondered if she could pull herself through the kalpa much as she could pull herself to the Heart itself. Focusing on Ethasi, Dua closed her eyes and _pulled_.

Dua found herself standing outside a cave.

The hair on her neck began to prickle almost the second her bare feet touched the ashy soil. She could sense a familiar Daedric prince. _Azura._

She supposed logically, she had nothing to fear from the Princes—her power could defend her against any of the Princes if necessary—but while Lorkhan’s divinity had always been a part of her, she hadn’t been born a divine being. The Princes had, insomuch as a Daedric Prince could be “born.” They were beings of powers of nature, and the innateness of their energy could very well over-power her if they worked together.

Dua’s stomach lurched in anxiety as they walked toward the cave. Sitting down on a volcanic rock, Dua unbound her braided hair and ran a hand through it roughly, a habit of hers when frustrated.

Just how much power could she expend at once? Was it as fathomless as it felt?

She’d never once had cause to test her limits before; she’d been kept under the watchful eye of Kagrenac the majority of her life, and if she’d tested her power without his supervision her certainly would have known—he was the only being she knew who was as in-tune with Tones as she was.

Where did her divnity _end_? Would a Daedric prince be able to snuff out her light? Drain her? She wasn’t sure. Dua couldn’t imagine actually being thrown into a situation where she needed to defend herself of someone else, as she had in Heart Chamber that day, at this point in time. Thinking back on that, everything she had done that day had been driven by _instinct_ rather than an innate knowledge of herself and her being.

Knotting her long hair into a bun atop her head, Dua began the process of quieting her mind to meditate while waiting for Ethasi to return. She didn’t have to wait long.

Ethasi and the Wise Woman exited the cave shortly after Dua arrived. They said their goodbyes, and Dua and Ethasi decided to make the trek back to Ald’Ruhn on foot rather than expending the magicka required to portal a second time for the day. As Dua hadn’t been to Ald’Ruhn in a milennia, only Ethasi would be able to pull off a successful portal, and she was exhausted.

Seryn met them shortly thereafter, just outside of Vos, to lead them back to Ald’Ruhn and regroup. Ethasi introduced Dua as a fellow Telvanni apprentice.

Azura, it seemed, had placed her love of Vvardenfell and the Dunmer above her feud with the Tribunal, and to an extent, Duakagre, for the moment. Ethasi was starting to get anxious, pulling at her fingers and wringing her hands as they trekked along the all-too-familiar northern shore of Vvardenfell to head back to Ald’Ruhn. Chodala would speak to the council that evening, and the walk would take half the day.

While Ethasi and Seryn discussed Chodala, the False Nerevarine, Dua focused on the tones around her. The road this far north was too dangerous to traverse bare foot, soshe’d put on a pair of thin-soled boots from her pack. As such, she found herself needing more focus than usual to parse through the Song around her. Whatever Chodala had found, be it a creation of Sil’s or perhaps even her father’s, it was starting to pull at the creatia around them. To a degree, she could feel it pulling at _her_.

A chiming tone, nearly audible, that seemed to seek her out skirted along the exposed skin of the back of her neck and Dua shuddered and stopped. Ethasi and Seryn seemed to have noticed her pause and turned to regard her as Dua slowly turned to her left to a set of ruins wreathed in ash and lava. Gooseflesh erupted across her skin and even Ethasi and Seryn seemed to sense the _wrongness_ coming from the ruin.

“What is that place?”

Ethasi shifted uneasily.

“It’s said to be where followers of the Sixth House still reside. Its name has been forgotten to time, but it was the heart of House Dagoth during the War of the First Council.”

Dua squeezed her eyes shut—it felt like her skull was _vibrating_ with the tones. She twisted her face away from the ruin in a grimace as a confusing jumble of invasive thoughts and emotions flooded her. She vividly remembered the way Voryn’s eyes had locked on the heart. Memories flooded her, of Voryn showing her the dream magic of her birthright, of learning to Dreamwalk, of being taught to ward herself from Nightmares…and then the tone shifted to visceral emotions that were not her own: a lust for power, betrayal, zealotry for a dead god, whispered promises of an independent, Chimeri Resdayn, out from under the thumb of the Northern Barbiarians and the Dwemer.

Dua felt a hand on her shoulder and pulled herself out of her own mind.

“—okay? Dua? Are you okay?” Ethasi was asking when she pulled herself out of it. Dua mentally shook herself and offered a weak smile. To Seryn, Dua replied in short, stilted sentences.

“I just…really don’t like this place. Let’s get out of here.”

Both Ethasi and Seryn seemed to agree wholeheartedly and the small group picked up their pace to Ald’Ruhn.

It was dusk, and Duakagre was fraught with nausea by the time they were waiting outside the council chambers to challenge Chodala’s claims. Every nerve ending was starting to prickle and she was starting to sense that it wasn’t just nervousness prickling at her skin, but rather a very tangible magic. Worse still, the aura she could faintly feel was tinged with a familiar Arcane _flavor_.

“Alright, Seryn. Let’s go. We’re prepared for this,” Ethasi said, standing taller and setting her jaw. Seryn nodded and led the group through the entrance.

As soon as the trio passed through the Threshold, Dua knew what she was feeling. That was _Sil’s_ arcane aura she was feeling. She’d know his magic anywhere. Reaching out with her own aura, she tried to pinpoint the source. Her eyes landed on the Ashlander holding a very Dwemeri looking staff.

_Sunna’rah._ She wasn’t sure where the name had come from, and yet she knew it was the name for the staff before her. She pushed her aura to the staff to inspect the creatia, and her mind conjured a scene behind her lidded eyes.

_Sil bent over his work table, brass components scattered before him. He’d removed his helm and tied his long white hair back from his face, a rare occurrence, in Dua’s experience. Sil tended to only tie his hair back in fits of vexation while working._

_Taking the brass staff before him in hand, he poured magicka forth and winced slightly as the staff pulled divinity from him and into a chunk of blue crystal before him. He turned to scrawl something down on a piece of parchment nearby._

Dua blinked rapidly, the image clearing. She resisted the urge to shake her head in frustration. Sil was too inquisitive for his own good.

While the staff oozed Sil’s magicka and Vivec’s stolen divinity, she could feel something else lurking, twisting the staff into a melting pot of divinity, magicka, and something distinctly _Daedric._ She visibly shuddered in revulsion and pulled her borrowed staff off her back. She had a sinking feeling that Sunna’rah would siphon the closest source of divinity, rather than Vivec specifically. Her confusion as to just how intertwined she was with her own stolen divinity was making her itchy with anxiety. Would it kill her in the instant Chodala activated it?

As Chodala argued with Seryn and Ethasi, she could feel his mounting anxiety in the face of the failed incarnates. The thick feeling of desperation was one with which she was intimately familiar; it was the final emotion she’d witnessed from her father.

The Wise Woman rebuffed Chodala a final time and he raised Sunna’rah in anger, a pulse emitting. Dua felt it grab hold of her and _pull_ , the feeling so similar to Keening’s effect on her that her head spun with familiarity. She dropped to a crouch and put a hand to her chest, trying to calm down and ward off the pull. Her muscles felt instantly achy and weak—it was taking effort to remain crouched and not collapse fully.

She heard a gasp and looked up to see the eyes of the council and everyone in attendance locked on her. Chodala’s eyes had darkened in both confusion and realization; he had no idea who this being was before him, but whatever she was, Sunna’rah was reacting to her, and she was wreathed in the familiar pulse of raw humming magicka and golden divinity.

“ _Dammit,_ Sil,” she hissed to herself in Dwemeris before standing and grappling for Sunna’rah with her magicka. Chodala pointed to her with the staff and Dua was once again knocked to the floor. She released a growling yell of irritation as Seryn and Ethasi jumped at him from behind. After a moment of grappling and wrestling, Chodala was up and running for the exit, as Red Exiles poured in. With Chodala gone, the pull eased and Dua was up to assist. She was seething with anger and was unsure if it was a culmination of the past two days’ stress, or was outrage being forced onto her by another being at the abuse of Sunna’rah.

By the time Gulakhan Yus-Zashten knelt before them in surrender, Dua had dropped her entire disguise and was practically humming with both anger and power.

Ethasi stared at her in wonder; Dua truly looked the part of a wrathful god in that moment; it was a look unfortunate souls had seen many a times on the face of Almalexia before they were _unmade_. Part of Ethasi wondered if Dua was even fully in control.

“Where is he?” Dua hissed in Tamrelic. When she didn’t receive an answer, she stepped forward and grabbed their foe around the neck and hefted her into the air. She switched to Dunmeris. “I said, where is he?” The Gulakhan curled her lip in a sneer.

“You’re…just as revolting as the rest…of them,” she hissed out in between choking gasps for air. “The…Nerevarine will end you, murderer.” Yus-Zashten then made her final mistake and spat in Duakagre’s face. Ethasi and Seryn’s eyes widened as Duakagre’s lips twisted into a snarl and she screamed in the larger woman’s face. In a flash of light, Ethasi and Seryn were knocked to the ground by the force, and the Gulakhan dissolved into a pile of ash before them.

_Ashes to ashes._

Blinking rapidly, Dua slowly lowered the arm that now held nothing but ash and scraps of fabric. She looked down at her ash covered hands in barely concealed horror, eyes rapidly tracing the ground before her. As quickly as the emotion had appeared, it vanished, and Dua stood emotionless, staring at the pile of ash on the floor silently. She supposed she’d just learned precisely how far she could manipulate creatia. _Out of existence, it would appear._

“Duakagre…Dua,” Ethasi said as she slowly approached the woman as one would a startled deer…or perhaps as they would an angry cliff racer. Seryn, bolstered by adrenaline and perhaps the favor of a Daedric Prince, didn’t approach with as much tact.

“N’chow,” she cursed through her teeth, frightened and angered. “What was _that_ , Duakagre? What are you? Are you one of _them?_ ”

Dua was still coming down from the adrenaline of incinerating another being and heard Seryn’s words through a fog. She’d hypothetically known she was capable of such an act, but it was the first time she’d used her power in such a way, and was the first time she’d directly taken a life.

Dua had turned to Seryn to grapple for a response, when Seryn was overtaken by a bright gold light and stood suspended on her tip toes before them, eyes closed in apparent contemplation. _Azura._

Azura-through-Seryn looked to Ethasi and Dua pointedly. “I would have words with you, Mortal, Godling.” Dua flinched and looked away, but Azura continued. “Chodala has been revealed as a failed Nerevarine, but that hasn't dissuaded him from his reckless course of action. As long as he wields the staff, he shall be unstoppable, even to you, Duakagre."

“So what should we do?” Ethasi said, her voice breaking a bit as the gravity of the situation began to make itself known.

“Time is against you, mortal. Even now, Vivec, that pompous usurper, grows increasingly weaker. As much as I deplore him, Vivec cannot fall to Chodala's vile magic. There's another power at work here, one I can't quite put my finger on, but feels very familiar.” Azura hummed thoughtfully. "Return to Vivec City. Do what you can to aid Vivec. And pay heed to my faithful vessel, Seryn. I name her Champion of the Moon and Star. She will play a pivotal role in ending her brother's march toward godhood—if she survives."

With that, Azura abandoned her possession of Seryn and she collapsed in a heap before sitting up with an elated smile.

"That was … glorious! Lady Azura's presence filled me with such … wonder. She actually spoke through me!” Seryn’s bright mood was in such startling contrast to the despondent Dua at her side, that Ethasi was feeling the emotional whiplash. Oblivious to the discomfort of her companions, Seryn continued. “I heard everything she said and I felt her sense of urgency. You need to return to Vivec City immediately."

If Dua had felt so instantly sapped by such minimal exposure to Sunna’rah, she could only imagine the state Vivec would be in by the time they arrived. He’d been exposed for what appeared to be almost a month’s time—Duakagre again found herself wondering at the differences between Kagrenac’s practice runs with his tools on Dua, and Sil’s perfected usage.

“We need horses,” Dua said finally. “I can’t portal us there. Under normal circumstances, sure. After that? Absolutely not.”

“Good luck finding a horse here, Dua. There haven’t been any since your time. The island just isn’t the right climate for them. We’d have to take a guar, and that won’t be fast enough.” Ethasi brought her hand to her chin in thought.

Dua made an impulsive decision. Masking her Divnity and grabbing Ethasi by her bicep, she reaching for the tones of the Heart interwoven Vivec. Ethasi let out a surprised yelp and looked to Dua in confusion. This would be far less precise and far more risky than any time she’d pulled herself directly through creatia before, but it would have to do. Closing her eyes, Dua reached forward and _pulled_ and in a flash they stood just outside Vivec’s Temple. Dua leaned back heavily against the canton’s railing, blood dripping from her nose and beginning to trickle from her ringing ears. Ethasi was at her side in an instant, Restoration pouring from her hands.

Dua sank to the ground for a moment in relief. It was approaching midnight, so their appearance didn’t trigger alarm, as there weren’t many people out and about.

“Well, that was certainly expedient, Dua,” Ethasi said with a sardonic laugh. “We’re lucky no one is around. That looked and _felt_ a lot different than a portal, you know.”

She didn’t know, but she’d take Ethasi’s word for it. Standing again and wiping the l=blood from her face with her robe, Ethasi removed her staff from her back and gestured with her head to the stairs to Vivec’s temple.

“Fancy a climb?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter FOUGHT ME. For two months! I rewrote it over and over again. I still hate it but I have to keep moving with this bitch.

**Author's Note:**

> The rating will likely increase! Just a warning. I have the vocabulary of a pirate sooooOoOoOoOoo....


End file.
